Wandering to find my way Home

Month: June 2017

This is a sort of thing I was writing and I thought you guys might enjoy hearing it.

Favorite book in each genre:

Romance: Any book by Dee Henderson. I’m especially partial to The Negotiator, The Truth Seeker, and True Valor. There are others, probably, but I can’t think of them just now. Also Pride and Prejudice (and Jane Austen in general).

Fantasy: Any of the Chronicles of Narnia (C.S. Lewis) (Edmund I love Edmund!) and my older sister’s fantasy stuff are the first to come to mind, but pretty much all I read is fantasy, so, you know, it’s hard to choose.

Sci-fi: Robert Heinlein. Anything Robert Heinlein. Great humor and clean. Also Madeleine L’Engle with her terrific time travel, kything (mental communication is the language of angels) and theoretic tesser stuff. The most accurate depiction of teenagers ever goes to her. (I swear, she’s like the only author who understands how teenagers feel sometimes.)

Dystopian: Haven’t read enough to choose.

Historical Fiction: Either Sun Slower, Sun Faster by Meriol Trevor (one of my favorite book friendships ever), Enemy Brothers (who loves these darling brothers, raise their hands!) [Dym] *privately freaking out over him* and Reb and the Redcoats (most innocent romance ever but still romantic and so sweet I’m gonna get cavities) both by Constance Savery, Under a Changing Moon by Margot Benary-Isbert (love this one, my heart hurts every time I finish reading it), or like, The Brothers’ War (My Side of the Story) by Patricia Hermes–okay, I need to take a breath. I’ve clearly established for you how much I love this genre.

Young Adult: The whole Meet the Austens Series by Madeleine L’Engle, because Vicky, Vicky, honey, you get me on so many levels–

Alright I clearly need to stay away from talking about my favorite books. I get carried away.

Clean and fantastic books. My best book friends which I can come back too. (Oh wait I forgot to mention The Borrowed House by Hilda van Stockum for historical and romance although there are a couple things definitely older subjects but nothing explicit or dirty really she’s just worried about her parent’s marriage. And Nazism.)

So, y’all, you already know how I feel about Marvel (love it! Except for that horrible thing that’s been going around about making Cap a Nazi, I mean! Screw those people. Nazis are nasty.)

But I was thinking about it recently, and I realized why Peggy is the perfect compliment for Steve. I can sum it up with one line, quoted directly from the first season of her show.

“I know my own value.”

I know my own value. What does that mean? Well, if you look at it, it links directly to humility. This line is actually about humility. Why? A lot of people think humility is thinking you are worthless. It is not. God wants us to be level-headed, happy and rational on earth. Self-destruction is the last thing God wants from us. He doesn’t want us to be vain or proud, and he doesn’t want us to go to the other end of the scale of pride and hate ourselves. Self-hate actually stems from pride, if you’ll believe it. Self-hate thinks that we know ourselves so much better; if people actually knew us, they would passionately hate us. But unfortunately, for me, self-hate is so much harder to overcome than pride, because self-hate kind of eats at you.

Self-hate also brings out a sick kind of double-standard. Only instead of letting yourself get away with things you’d blame others for, you hold yourself to an impossible standard while allowing for everyone’s humanity but yours. You may even measure yourself by other people you consider to be better than you, without allowing for their flaws or the difference in character.

Pride is a horrible sin. It goes before destruction. But self-hate and self-contempt are destruction already happening.

God wants us to find a happy medium. To know our flaws and our qualities. To allow for our humanity, and to forgive ourselves, but to still hold ourselves to a high, though not unrealistic, standard. That’s what Peggy’s quote embodies. “I know my own value.” That’s the happy medium. Knowing your own value. Knowing that you are still given qualities, but are still fallible. Knowing that on your own, you will fail, but that with help, you can succeed. Knowing that you are a special person, unique. Reserving judgement for God, because human judgement is fallible.

Peggy is actually struggling with this double-standard thing in the course of the season of Agent Carter in which this line is used. This line signals a kind of completion. Peggy has moved on and stopped trying to hold herself to an impossible standard, but hasn’t let go of her high standards.

Steve Rogers has a much worse self-hate issue going on (poor kid.) It’s hard for him to let go of that. He holds other people to a standard, yes, but he abuses himself whenever he fails, etc, etc. That’s what can happen to compassionate people. It’s easy to slip into self-hate or to hold yourself responsible for other people’s pain, especially when you are empathetic. The trick to empathy is to understand and help without dragging yourself down in the same pit.

That’s why Peggy is such a perfect compliment for him. Because she knows what’s going on and doesn’t let it happen. ‘Then stop blaming yourself. Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice.’ That line summed it up perfectly.

Some people just fit like that.

That’s what I try to achieve when writing friends; compliments. The way people just fit, the ways they fit and click. The way friends challenge you to be a better person, while still accepting the person you are just now. I also try to achieve that in my own friendships, in the real world.

This takes quotes from Doctor Who up to season 9. So, a warning for semi-spoilers? Not too bad, though, it’s only quotes.

It’s a poem, of sorts. It takes verses from Dylan Thomas ‘Do not go gentle into that good night.’ I didn’t write any of this, really. I just arranged quotes from the B.B.C. and lines from Thomas and a couple words. I also used a the name of a piece of music from Doctor Who (Together or not at all.)

Here are the only words I wrote; you can read these, at least, without any spoilers.

Run

Stand

Hold my hand.

Please

Don’t

Make

Me

Leave.

Hello

My friend

My friends.

Do I

Know

You

My dear?

Goodnight, my dear, dear friend.

Here is the whole thing:

A Farewell

With Verses from Dylan Thomas

And a story

Do not go gentle into that good night

Run

“Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. Now run for your life!”

“You were fantastic.”

“And you know what? So was I.”

Old age should burn and rave at the close of day

Stand

“You’re completely mad.”

“You’re right. I’ll look daft with one shoe.”

“Barefoot on the moon.”

“Doctor!”

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Hold my Hand

“What?!”

“What the hell is this place?!”

“What?”

“Just save someone!”

“I think sometimes you need someone to stop you.”

Though wise men at their end know dark is right

Please

“I’m burning up a star just to say goodbye.”

“I love you.”

“Quite right, too.”

“This is my last chance to say it. Rose Tyler—”

Because their words had forked no lightening they

Don’t

“But he’s not you.”

“He needs you. That’s very me.”

Do not go gentle into that good night

Make

“I spent all this time with you thinking I’m not good enough, but you know what?”

“I am good.”

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Me

“I was gonna be with you forever.”

“Traveling, in the TARDIS. The Doctor-Donna.”

“Don’t make me go back! Doctor, I don’t want to go back!”

“We had the best of times. The best.”

“Goodbye.”

“No!”

“Help me.”

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay

Leave

“I’m going to die. Some new man goes sauntering away. And I’m dead.”

“I could’ve been so much more!”

“And this is what I get. My reward! It’s not fair!”

“I think your song is ending now.”

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Hello

“People always say that.”

“Do I even look like people?”

“Trust me. I’m the Doctor.”

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

My Friend

“Raggedy Man! Goodbye!”

“No!”

“Amy!”

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

My Friends

“Yeah, like I don’t know that.”

“Rory, she’s having an emotion!”

I’d wait two thousand years to protect you

“We got married and had a daughter and that’s her.”

“Okay.”

Together or not at all

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Do I

“Oswin Oswald.”

“Doctor Who?”

“It’s smaller on the outside.”

“Run. Run you clever, clever boy. And remember me.”

“Words.”

“Yes. I can hear you.”

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Know

“The clock is striking twelve.”

“Goodbye Raggedy Man.”

“When did you take off the veil?”

“When you stopped seeing it.”

“Or chips and coffee?”

“Coffee.”

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

You

“Not always.”

“Let me be brave. Let me be brave.”

How are you going to win

“Why can’t I lose?”

“I think it’s called ‘Clara’.”

“Nothing’s sad till it’s over. Then everything’s sad.”

“You said memories become stories when we forget them. Maybe some of them become songs.”

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

My Dear

Goodnight, my dear, dear friend.

Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the stars all the worlds might just blink out if he ever accepted it.

This is for my friend who is currently on a trip, and just had her birthday. Happy Birthday! If you see this now, hurray! If not, I’ll show it to you later.

Well roses are red

But violets aren’t blue

(more purple or violet, really)

This poem’s overused

I’m not even going to bother with a rhyme scheme

I’m just gonna say I love you.

Well roses are pink

And also white too

(Also blue and black and a ton of other colors but who cares)

You’re my best friend

That’s enough ‘cause it’s true.

Well sunflowers are yellow

And the sun kinda is too

(Well, technically, white and main sequence)

You just had your birthday

(You should remember to eat plenty of chocolate; you only have a birthday once a year!)

I really miss you.

Also, happy birthday, sweetheart.

My older sister ranted to me about the sun being green. Technically, the spectrum does peak in the blue-green, so she is partially correct, but the sun emits all colors of light, meaning it is white according to the terminology of physics. According to the astronomers, our sun is a yellow dwarf star.

So what comes of worries about senior year and all that? Angsty poetry about the friendships that break up. There is one mild instance of swearing in this poem, just to warn you. I would chop it out, but it’s essential to the flow of the poem.

So, maybe this is PG, I guess? Not like, PG-13, though.

Maybe I have forgotten that you were transcendent.

I stand in the house

Waiting.

Not just for anyone—

For you.

(I wouldn’t have waited for anyone else.)

Rainbow wings sweep the roofless sky,

And you drop here, effortlessly.

The roof has been torn to ribbons for heaven knows how long.

I look up at it, and don’t look at you.

Your wings sink into your back, and they are gone.

I stare at you.

You look at me, or through me,

The opalescence of your skin glowing and the sun

Shining through you

Like you are a piece of tracing paper.

Ivy has carved its way over the walls of the house.

The wall where you pinned your photographs still bear them.

This place must be warded, or they wouldn’t’ve survived.

I’ve always known it was warded. I’ve just forgotten.

I wander over to the wall.

They are faded, bleeding colors.

Our faces lie there, split by smiles,

Ghostly and pale, bleached by sunlight.

I am golden, tan, grown.

You are a ghost.

You are still looking at me.

“I didn’t expect you to come.”

You say,

And it aches so,

Because your voice is exactly the same as always.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

It’s a lie, or nearly a lie.

I can’t tell lies, not quite, but it’s not the truth, either.

“If you count earth as the neighborhood, then yes, you were.”

You say.

Your words are sardonic;

Your tone sad, loving.

Flowers have burst through the floor.

Your garden has invaded.

Rose thorns piece my fingers as I touch them.

Blood drips on the ashy, burnt floor.

I do not answer you.

“You didn’t sell the manor.”

You say.

Your voice goes very soft.

“You could’ve.”

“And it would have done any good?” I ask.

“It’s been seven centuries.”

You say.

“It could have.”

I shake my head.

“Some things are irrevocable.”

“I heard you had kids.”

You say.

“I did.”

The words taste sour on my tongue. I remember Lucy’s cradle.

I remember Amber’s grave.

“Only one inherited the curse, I heard.”

You say.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Better for them.”

“Not better for you. No one should bury their kids.”

“Lots of people did, when we were born. Even more before then.”

“Cancer.”

“And other things, yeah.”

My voice is rough.

You stare at me, sadly.

“I heard your wife died.”

I shrug.

“Kay was happy with her life. She did everything she wanted.”

“You never married anyone else.”

“Who would I marry?”

The words are hollow, aching.

“I’m thinking of leaving,”

I say, abruptly.

“I’m tired of haunting the earth,”

I finish.

“Seen everything?”

You ask. This doesn’t surprise you.

I shake my head.

“No one to see it with.”

“You could’ve seen it with me.”

Statement, not accusation.

“You didn’t want me.”

Not a lie, not the truth.

“I needed you.”

Pained, not angry.

I sit down on the stairs.

“Well.”

“Yeah?”

“Where should I go?”

You shrug.

“There’s a universe. See the whole damn thing.”

“You don’t swear.”

I say, numbly.

“Maybe I do.”

You say, tiredly.

I rub my eyes.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

I get up.

You say nothing.

“Bye, Alexa.” I make myself say.

“Bye, Peter.”

Your voice is rough.

I don’t hug you.

You don’t even try to hug me.

I feel even emptier.

“I love you, Peter.”

Your words burn me.

Your wings reappear.

My heart aches so badly. My chest is going to explode.

I should say something.

Don’t leave.

Come with me.

Alexa.

Anything at all.

“I know.”

I leave.

Like it? Hate it? In retrospect, I sort of dispassionately despise this poetry, so feel free to tell me if you hate it in the comments. Thanks for reading, and God bless!